


100 Steps to Falling in Love

by Pikapegasus



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-14 07:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4556154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikapegasus/pseuds/Pikapegasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One hundred Romanogers oneshots following a list of one hundred one-word prompts I found! Takes place between the events of The Avengers and Age of Ultron, following Natasha and Steve as they dance around their feelings (and each other).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shut Up and (Dance) With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Um...hi? I have no idea what I'm doing here; I've only used fanfiction.net up until this moment...bear with me. A user on tumblr requested I start posting on here, too, so hopefully this goes okay...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 1: Dance**
> 
> Natasha decides Steve needs dancing lessons…while she’s a bit drugged up on painkillers…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place before CATWS!

"Well, Rogers? What are you waiting for?"

Steve just blinked in reply, his eyes once again traveling up and down his companion's body. She wasn't dressed up stunningly or anything, no - she had just hopped off of an examination table in one of the many rooms in the medical ward of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base as soon as the doctor walked out, and was staring up at him expectantly, her green eyes pulling him toward her. Her uniform was tattered, clinging to her body and hanging off in tattered clumps, and she looked as nonchalant as ever.

His eyes were wandering because she had just gotten some _bullets_ pulled out of her, and now she was standing and walking and just _moving_ as if nothing had happened to her. Oh, and she just asked him to dance with her.

Natasha Romanoff was _insane._

"A S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor just pulled a bullet out of your thigh - no, scratch that, pulled _multiple_ bullets out of _both_ of your legs, and you want to _dance_?" Steve stared at her incredulously. Honestly, he could not _believe_ how careless Natasha could be sometimes. She was very careful and caring on her missions, of course, otherwise she wouldn't be the best at her job - but when it came to just the two of them, Natasha practically _threw_ herself around, trying to do this and that when she _should_ be recovering from post-mission injuries.

No wonder Fury had paired him up with her, Steve thought. Natasha needed someone to tell her to _calm the hell down._

" _You,_ " Natasha poked his chest with her index finger for emphasis, "need to learn how to dance, and _I_ need to relax. And what better way to do that than with some casual dancing?"

She shimmied her shoulders a bit to add _more_ emphasis, and Steve resisted the urge to smack his own forehead with his palm. Natasha Romanoff was something else; deadly one minute, then hanging somewhere on the borderline of just plain dorky and sarcastic the next.

So, he grabbed the hand with the finger touching his chest, and gently moved it away. " _I_ can wait to learn how to dance. _You_ need to rest your body. Jesus, Romanoff, you're going to pull your stitches. _Again._ " (She tended to do that a lot.)

"Aw, come on now, don't take the Lord's name in vain," Natasha teased with a mock pout, and Steve just sighed. What was he going to do with her?

Sensing his hesitation, Natasha forced her hand out of his grasp and, instead, pulled his body closer to hers, joining their hands. He blinked at her again, trying to find the words to turn her offer down.

"Natasha, really, thanks for the offer-"

"I wasn't offering, I'm _ordering._ Now, shut up and dance with me."

Complying, Steve resigned to just forcing her into resting her legs later, hoping Natasha's body could at least endure until then. Knowing how stubborn she was, she probably _would_ last.

"Just keep your eyes on my feet - ow, damn it, _don't step on them_ \- alright, easy, easy… Just follow a bit…"

Soon, they were swaying to an imaginary rhythm, Steve carefully mimicking Natasha's every move and taking extra care to not step on her or misstep. He might hurt her more if he did.

God, if Fury ever found out about this, he'd probably _kill_ Steve for letting one of his best agents possibly injure herself further.

Natasha, after a minute or so, began humming some nonsensical tune that fit nicely with the pace of their dancing. She even had a light smile on her face - different than the normal smirks Steve usually saw her wearing.

Seeing that they continued to do the same exact thing for another minute, Steve raised a curious eyebrow. "I know dancing usually involves a bit more than just stepping back and forth… Are you going easy on me, Romanoff?"

Her eyes sparked with mischief and challenge at that, as she looked up to meet his amused gaze. "Yes, for two reasons: you suck, and my legs feel like they're on fire. Obviously, it's mostly because of the former. Would you _prefer_ to do something more advanced?"

She pulled one hand away from him now, spinning away from him with a mischievous expression. However, her face twitched a bit, and Steve frowned disapprovingly, knowing she definitely just pulled one of her stitches.

He pulled her back to him, letting her spin into his arms. Using that to his advantage, he caught her in his strong grip, hands entwined with hers and his large arms crossed over her torso. Surprisingly, she didn't fight him.

His eyes burned into her fiery hair, as if he were trying to stare through the back of her skull and into her eyes on the other side. "I would _prefer_ you go sit down now. I think I've got the gist of this whole 'dancing' thing, don't you?"

Natasha gave a small laugh at that, and Steve had to admit, he kind of loved it. He had never before heard her sound anything other than monotone or pissed off or sarcastic or teasing; this entire encounter was a lot more _genuine_ than he was used to with her, honestly.

Yeah, the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor from before _definitely_ gave her some hefty painkilling drugs.

He wasn't about to protest that and its amusing result, though.

She turned her head back, emerald orbs meeting his baby blue. "You're the one who just said he wasn't learning enough." If she was trying to sound accusatory, she wasn't doing very well; all Steve could see in that moment was Natasha being genuinely _cute._

"We can continue another day," he offered.

With an over-dramatic sigh, Natasha squirmed from his grasp, which had gradually loosened over the course of their brief conversation. She turned to face him, shrugging her shoulders and throwing her hands up to show her half-hearted compliance. "Alright, fine. You'll be facing me when I'm on my top game, though, so _be prepared._ "

"Yes, Ma'am." Steve saluted her, which prompted a punch his arm as she sauntered by him.

"Oh, stop. And help me back up on this examination table; I think I can hear a doctor outside, and I pulled a stitch. We're going with the cover story of you poking my injuries and causing the stitch to rip, okay?"

Steve just rolled his eyes. Intoxicated Natasha was an especially mischievous Natasha, jumping from dancing to manipulating in no time at all.

So, he helped her back up on her perch, and resumed his seat in a nearby plastic chair, the sense of Natasha in his arms lingering.


	2. Trick or (Treat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 2: Treat**
> 
> When Tony comes looking for help from a threat, Steve is surprised to see what - or, _who_ \- that threat really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have no idea what I'm doing. Am I doing this right?

"Rogers! We have an emergency!"

Steve looked up at Tony's frantic call, Tony himself appearing on the other side of the room a few moments later. He seemed worried over something, but Steve wasn't sure what. As far as Steve was concerned, Tony could be obsessing over something as small as a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe or something as large as a world crisis.

"What kind of emergency?" Steve asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

"Code Red," Tony said, stopping behind the chair where Steve was sitting. "And by red, I mean, _literally_ , red."

Ah. Vague words with an unexplained meaning. This couldn't be world threatening, then. "Does this have something to do with one of your Iron Man suits, or something?"

Tony just stared at him. "Do you not know what day it is?"

"Uh…" Steve thought for a moment. "Thursday?"

"You're unbelievable." Tony shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't even know why I thought to come to you for help."

"You have something against Thursdays, Stark?" Steve said.

Tony gave a _huff._ "Yes, actually, when those Thursdays happen to be October thirty-first. Also known to the common folk as _Halloween._ "

Oh. No wonder it had passed over Steve's head completely; Halloween had never really been his thing. Plus, growing up in a Catholic family, the emphasis had always been on November first - All Saints' Day. Halloween was more of an activity for the other kids when Steve was growing up. "How is Halloween an emergency? Do you need a costume?"

" _No_ , I need to _hide_!" Tony waved his hands around frantically. "And so do _you_! Or else we'll be-"

"Trick or treat!" a voice called out from the hall. Tony let out a small, surprised yelp at who Steve immediately identified to be Natasha. As she walked into the room, Tony ran around Steve's chair and crouched down behind it, hiding from Natasha's line of sight.

Steve looked Natasha up and down, taking note of her black cloak, which matched the black witch hat sitting on her head. In her hands, she held an orange, Jack-o-lantern bucket, which Steve figured was for collecting candy. He blinked, and she blankly returned the gesture. A moment of silence passed between then.

Then, "You're kidding, right?"

Because this was just ridiculous. Natasha Romanoff celebrating Halloween? _Dressing up_ and _trick-or-treating_ were two things Steve would have never associated with her.

Natasha's expression remained passive, but expectant. "It's Halloween."

"You're an adult," Steve said.

"Living with a bunch of children, don't you agree?" Natasha's eyes twinkled a bit with mischief.

Well. One glance back at Tony's cowering form behind his seat confirmed that. And Tony's implication that Clint was off elsewhere doing the same thing as Natasha.

"Fair point." Steve nodded. "But I don't have any candy."

"I figured," Natasha said, leaning a bit to the side so she could see Tony's foot poking out from his hiding spot. "Stark, fill me up."

She held the bucket up expectantly, and Tony looked ready to collapse. The only thing scarier than the Black Widow was...well, the Black Widow acting surprisingly _silly_. And domestic. And immature. And dressed up as a _witch_ , of all things?

"Is this your way of saying you'll hex me if I don't comply?" Tony gave a small, nervous laugh.

"Depends. I actually have a reputation at S.H.I.E.L.D. around the new trainees about my double life: Avenger and witch. Barton started the rumor years ago, the little bastard." Natasha rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I'd appreciate some candy to drown my sorrows."

Tony stood up and wandered over to the other side of the room where some cabinets were, looking desperately for some sugar to appease Natasha the Witch. Steve just watched the interaction curiously.

"So you really do this every year?" Steve questioned her.

"More or less. It really started last year after Clint and I gave Tony a surprise visit. Tony screamed. Loudly. It was quite funny," Natasha said smugly, ignoring the muttered complaints from Tony that followed her explanation. "The witch thing, though - that's been going on for a while. I've learned to embrace the identity; rumor has it I eat a recruit every year on Halloween." She grinned murderously, and Steve resisted the urge to back away. (No wonder Tony was so spooked.)

Despite the horrendous legend hanging over her head like a shadow, Natasha seemed to take it all in stride (and amusement?). Steve admired that. "Well, I like that costume on you. It's…" He paused, not sure what word to use. It was _cute_ , honestly - but how hard would Natasha hit him for saying that?

"Are you admiring me, Cap?" Natasha asked innocently, the glint of mischief returning to her eyes. As she moved her head, Steve noticed a small, fake spider on a string hanging from the drooping tip of the witch hat, as it swung with Natasha's movements. He wondered if she had put the spider there on purpose, since, you know... _Black Widow._

"I'm admiring your costume," Steve said, not falling for her trap. Because, really, she liked to tease him and poke fun and see how quickly she could fluster him. Maybe it had something to do with the way he felt when he was around her. Did she know that he actually felt _something_ when in her presence? If she did, that was slightly terrifying.

"You'd make a good witch." He paused, mentally slapping his forehead. Who the hell says _that_ to someone? That's basically telling Natasha that she'd make a good monster who terrorized people and, as she said the recruits at S.H.I.E.L.D. believed, _ate_ people! "I mean-"

Natasha cut him off with a soft laugh that reminded Steve of a bell tower, ringing peacefully and soothingly in the distance. He decided then he liked it when Natasha laughed. Her smile turned more genuine as she looked at him. "It's alright, Steve, I understand what you meant. Trust me, I wouldn't dress up like a witch if it actually bothered me."

That was true. And just common sense. _Nice going, Rogers._ Steve nodded with a shy smile. "Of course."

Tony returned then, Natasha's Halloween bucket in hand. He held it out to her, keeping his distance in fear of her _actually_ hexing him. "Here you go, Elphaba. One sugar rush ready to go."

Oh, God, that was a horrifying thought; _Natasha_ on a _sugar rush_? Steve feared to see that day.

But Natasha just took the orange container gratefully. "Thanks, Stark. I'll go find Clint to share the spoils of war with him.

Steve looked at Natasha's bucket more closely, and realized Tony had actually _filled_ the damn thing. Suddenly, the idea (and fear) of Natasha ( _and_ Clint!) on a sugar rush was very much real.

"Yeah, well, as long as you don't bewitch me or hex me or whatever...this is fine," Tony said. "Now, then, run along and go do your _Twitches_ thing with Legolas."

Natasha smiled sweetly at Tony, sending shivers down his spine for sure, before sending a smirk in Steve's direction. It amazed Steve how she managed to communicate so much just through two different kinds of smiles.

With that, she was sauntering off and out of the room, humming a song under her breath.

When she was gone, Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "'Defying Gravity.' She really _is_ Elphaba."

Steve had no idea who that was. But he didn't mind, because the idea of Natasha enjoying something as childish and innocent as trick-or-treating was...strangely, comforting.


	3. Your (Sand)y Admirer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 3: Sand**
> 
> The Avengers decide to be cliché. Natasha is exasperated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came to me after I spent a beach day with my family; I wrote my name in the sand, then tried to write a fanfiction in the sand. The ocean washed it away only after a few words, though... :/ 
> 
> (I am trash.)

"This is the most cliche thing I've ever seen."

Natasha stood over her teammates, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised in a skeptical manner. The guys, meanwhile, were all kneeling and crouching on the ground, their hands covered and immersed into the wet sand.

In the sand the word _AVENGERS_ had been etched out. Around it, each of them had put their own name. Well, everyone except Natasha, that is.

"Hey, since when is doing something cliche _bad_?" Clint said, deepening the letters of his own name.

"Yeah, plus, this'll get me _sooo_ many retweets when I post a picture of it," Tony said in a high-pitched voice which Natasha assumed to be an attempt at a valley-girl accent. Which would make sense, since they were actually in California right now.

"I don't understand," Thor said, frowning. Digging through the sand had been quite fun for him - after his enthusiasm for the activity was realized, Bruce and Clint had promised to help him build a sandcastle. _That_ would definitely be a sight worth the millions of retweets Tony thought this sand-name-thing would get him. "What is this 'tweeting' you frequently speak of, Stark?"

"Something about birds," Steve shrugged, a coy smile playing at his lips. Natasha recognized the gesture as one of her own; she had been sharpening his snark ever since Fury started partnering them up for missions. His sarcasm's daily growth impressed her every day. "Either way, I think this was a nice thing to do as a team. A symbol of our strong bond."

"It would have been nicer if the ocean hadn't swept away my name three times already," Bruce muttered, shaking his head as he traced the 'e' in his name once more. "I swear, nature just doesn't want me on this team."

"Probably because nature - and the rest of the world - only know you as the Hulk," Clint said with a grin. Tony laughed and Bruce (playfully) rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Nat, we left a space in the middle just for you," Steve said, looking at her pleadingly. Steve's puppy-dog-eyes... _that_ was something Natasha hadn't had to teach him; it just came _naturally_ to him, and it infuriated her. _Why_ was it so hard to turn him down whenever he gave her that _look_?

That's how Natasha found herself descending to the ground in the middle of her team, reaching out to the watery grains of sand that stuck together like clay. "It's kind of cute, I guess I'll give you guys that."

"Uh, _obviously_! It's just _adorable_ ," Tony said gleefully, practically bouncing up and down now. He stood up and wiped his dirtied hands on his shorts, then pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Hurry up and finish while I get the camera prepped."

"Tony, if you drop your phone in the ocean, Pepper will probably kill you," Bruce said.

Tony waved him off with his hand. "Nonsense, nonsense, my science brother; she would understand. She'll be my first retweet, I'm sure!"

Clint leaned closer to Bruce and stage-whispered, "Actually, I heard that the first thing Pepper did when she got on Twitter was block Tony."

Bruce _cackled_ and Tony frowned. "I heard that, Birdbrain!"

Meanwhile, Natasha was finishing up the double 'f's at the end of her name, and smiling at her handiwork. _Natasha Romanoff._ Though it hadn't been her original name, it _was_ her name; she felt much more connected to it than to _Natalia Romanova_ , which had been bloodied by her past. And, now, that past was out in the open - she had given her secrecy up to stop H.Y.D.R.A. Well, at least, to _start_ to stop H.Y.D.R.A.

They were the reason Natasha had been spending most of her time with the Avengers these days; H.Y.D.R.A. base raid after H.Y.D.R.A. base raid, everyone racing to stop the agency from growing anymore. When (or if?) the Avengers would succeed in terminating H.Y.D.R.A. permanently, then she felt she'd be able to enjoy these casual outings with her team. Part of the reason she had stayed standing while they all flocked to the sandy ground was just plain anxiety. H.Y.D.R.A. could be anywhere; they wouldn't hesitate to attack the Avengers on a beach day.

But everyone's nonchalant and happy mood was starting to wear off on her. She ran her fingertips along the sand, enjoying the feeling of it. She couldn't recall the last time she'd been to the beach...or, more accurately, the last time she had been to the beach _for fun_ and actually _having_ fun.

"Now it's perfect," Steve said, pulling Natasha from her thoughts. "It just didn't look right without your name."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Well, thank you, Captain Cliche. You really make me feel special."

"What can I say? You _are_ pretty special." Steve bumped Natasha's shoulder lightly, and she smirked at the sand. What were they even doing? 'Flirting'? What was this, this... _friendship_ of theirs? Was it really just that anymore? Or maybe something more?

As they scooted out of the way for Tony to take his so-called 'aesthetic' picture, the water reached their feet a split-second after Tony captured the moment with his phone camera, washing away Thor's name from the sandy roster. He reacted appropriately.

"NO! FOUL WATERS!" Thor boomed, angrily jumping to his feet and raising a fist to the skies. "How dare you wash away the name of the Son of Odin…"

Clint fell back onto the sand in a fit of laughter. "The ocean is _not_ worthy!" He then paused in a moment of self-realization. "Wait...when you put Thor's hammer in the ocean…"

"Are you kidding me? It doesn't _float_ , Barton," Tony said, almost looking bored. "It's a _hammer_!"

"From _Asgard_ ," Bruce said curiously. "It will travel through the water if Thor calls it, though, won't it?"

Thor nodded. "Mjolnir never fails to respond to my call."

"So it _can_ float, in certain circumstances," Clint pointed out, giving Tony an I-told-you-so look.

"Not _naturally_ ," Tony argued back, crossing his arms over his chest.

They continued to bicker over Mjolnir's buoyancy, and Natasha and Steve just watched. It was almost like witnessing a tennis match, really, following each Avenger as the friendly argument went back and forth endlessly.

The cold water of the Pacific Ocean hit their feet again, and Natasha noticed Steve suppress a shiver. His expression faltered momentarily, but he recovered quickly. Before Natasha could ask if he was alright, Steve tried to get the others' attention. "Hey, why don't we go build that sandcastle now?"

Fortunately, everyone seemed to have already gotten tired of discussing Thor's hammer, and readily agreed. They all moved to walk away, leaving Natasha alone with their sandy handwork. She took a few more moments to appreciate the little 'listing' of each of their names under and around the huge _AVENGERS_ , save for Thor's, noticing how closely hers and Steve's names were.

That was nothing. It was just letters carved into the sand, nothing more. It would all just wash away in a few minutes, anyway; Bruce's repeated attempts of adding his name and Thor's final failure were proof of that.

"Natasha! Are you coming?" Clint's voice prompted Natasha to raise her head and look at them, her mismatched teammates, standing where the sand was dryer, out of the ocean's reach. She silently appreciated the gesture, knowing Steve probably wasn't the only one who had a bad past experience with freezing water.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a second!" she called back before looking at everyone's names once more. Kneeling down in the sand in a moment of impulsiveness and 'let me have just _one_ moment as a normal, lovesick girl, damn it' she drew a little heart between her and Steve's names.

Who was she kidding? Flirting was flirting. Flirting meant interest. Interest meant a crush, and a crush meant Steve. Steve meant hope and trust and home and joy and everything else good to Natasha, just in the brief two years they'd known each other.

Their two names were the last to wash away.


	4. The (Salt) of the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 4: Salt**
> 
>  
> 
> Natasha likes putting salt on everything. Steve thinks she’s weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My best friend helped me out with this one; _she_ puts salt on all sorts of weird things, which I find questionable and somewhat offensive. 
> 
> Also, random angst at the end?

"Don't do that."

Steve reached a hand out over the bowl of broccoli between them, almost protectively. Judging by the slight frown and furrowed brow he was wearing, _protective_ was probably not too inaccurate of a judgment.

Natasha blinked at him, her salt shaker-bearing hand still raised just above the bowl. They stared silently at each other for a moment, as if figuring out what the other had been thinking.

For Steve it was, _who the hell puts salt on broccoli?_ For Natasha it was, _what the hell does he have against salt on broccoli?_

Finally, Natasha raised a curious eyebrow. "You afraid of a little salt, Cap?"

"No, but on my _broccoli_? Sure, if 'afraid' is what you want to call it," Steve said, carefully retracting his hand as if expecting Natasha to pounce the bowl of broccoli the moment he uncovered it. "Why would you put _salt_ on _broccoli_?"

"Why _wouldn't_ you?" Natasha countered in a bored tone, pulling the salt back to herself. She turned her attention back to the food on her plate - mashed potatoes and steak - and proceeded to christen them with the salt.

Steve actually looked appalled and maybe even offended. "Why are you putting salt on _mashed potatoes?_ And _steak_?!"

"Flavor," Natasha said in a deadpan before setting the salt back down on the table between them. "Don't worry, Rogers, you cook a mean steak - courtesy of Sam Wilson, of course - but it just needs a little salt."

"You're weird." Steve just shook his head, serving himself from broccoli. "New rule: you can only drown your food in salt _after_ you've put it on your plate. Because _I_ don't want salted broccoli, or whatever…"

"Fine. But there's nothing wrong with a little salt," Natasha said as she took a bite of her mashed potatoes - covered in salt, of course. "What do _you_ have against it?"

"I don't have anything against it, I just prefer my non-salty foods to be...well, _non-salty._ "

"Boring," Natasha drawled, picking up her glass of water.

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "My eating choices are _not_ boring," he said. And they really weren't...how _could_ they be? It was the twenty-first century, and he had so many different food options available at his _fingertips_! This was _nothing_ like his life before the War, which probably had the so-called 'boring' culinary decisions that Natasha believed Steve to be making today. "I just don't like salt as... _religiously_ , as you."

Natasha snorted into her drink, and Steve sighed. She gave him a small smirk after pulling the glass away from her lips. "I thought you were Catholic. You know, the whole _salt of the Earth_ thing and all of that. In the Bible."

Steve actually rolled his eyes that time. "Just because it says humans are the salt of the Earth doesn't mean I'm going to _eat_ salt on _everything_." He gestured to her. "By that logic, _you're_ the Catholic here."

She didn't really reply, other than a soft laugh, instead refocusing her attention on the food. Steve did the same, and they ate in a comfortable silence. Ever since Fury had begun partnering them up for missions the year before, Steve had spent a lot of one-on-one time with Natasha, meals being no exception. Though spending their free time alone together had been awkward at first, it quickly became comfortable as neither Steve nor Natasha were people who needed verbal communication to make an encounter less awkward.

Now that they were out of work, though, they spent less time alone, as the Avengers were pretty much _everywhere_ within a ten-foot radius of Steve and Natasha inside the Tower. After Fury's departure from the cemetery a few months prior, both Natasha and Steve had gone their separate ways for a little while, before ending up back together in Avengers' Tower after only a few weeks. Sam Wilson had convinced Steve to go back, and Steve had heard that Clint had done the same for Natasha; apparently, neither Natasha nor Steve were good at hiding the fact that they kind-of-sort-of-actually- _really_ missed each other. Badly.

So this little - _PLATONIC_ , Steve and Natasha had both practically yelled to everyone all day - dinner-date was a bit of a retreat from everyone else's hustle and bustle for a little while. Steve cooked, Natasha 'supervised' (read: set the table in, like, thirty seconds, and spent the rest of the time just poking fun at Steve about whatever she could think of), and they ate together.

After a few quiet minutes, Natasha looked up at Steve again, a small grin tugging at her lips. "Okay, if you don't like salt, how do you feel about pepper?"

Steve met her gaze thoughtfully. "The spice or the person?" He wouldn't put it past Natasha to trap him into saying something bad about Pepper; she and Natasha just _loved_ to trick and tease and trap _everyone_. Steve had been victimized quite frequently, if not the most, second only to Tony or maybe Clint.

Either way, Pepper and Natasha teaming up was never a good thing; it was a very _scary_ thing. So Steve wouldn't be surprised if Pepper was off somewhere eavesdropping on this conversation so she could plot 'revenge' on Steve for saying something bad about her when he'd really been talking about the spice.

Natasha laughed. "Why not both?"

Interesting answer, Steve noted. "Well...I'm okay with lowercase-'p'- _spice_ -pepper, but, like salt, you won't see me putting it on all of my food, _especially_ food it doesn't belong on." He gave Natasha a pointed look at that, and she nodded her surrender and acknowledgement of the claim. "As for uppercase-'P'- _person_ -Pepper, of course I like her; she's a close friend."

Natasha held her fork up and pointed it at him. "Watch it, Rogers; she's _mine_ ," she warned, and Steve raised his hands in defense. He briefly remembered how furious Natasha had been when she found out about the Mandarin crisis from the year before; Natasha had been torn between helping Steve finish whatever mission they'd been on and abandoning him altogether to go see Pepper. _The way of best friends_ , Steve thought to himself, feeling both happy for Natasha and Pepper's great friendship and sad for the current state of his and Bucky's. Just _thinking_ of best friends or friendship always seemed to remind Steve of Bucky, since he now knew his best friend was still alive out there, somewhere. Steve missed him so much.

"Steve?"

His slight slip in his emotions must have shown on his face, as Natasha was now looking at him, concerned. He forced a small smile onto his face and sighed.

"It's nothing, Nat, really."

Despite his reassurance, Natasha was excellent at reading him. Her expression turned more sympathetic. "We'll find him, Steve."

He didn't even bother to ask her how she knew he was thinking about Bucky. It probably had something to do with some microexpressions or facial tells he had whenever he did, or something. Natasha always noticed things like that. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Natasha nodded, sounding optimistic for once. Normally, it was the other way around; Natasha was negative, while Steve was positive. It was part of what made their partnership work so well. "After we get Bucky back, maybe we can go on a best friend double date."

Steve actually laughed at that, because, _what_? Had the words 'best friend double date' just come out of the mouth of _Natasha Romanoff_? What on Earth… "A best friend double date?"

Natasha rolled her eyes, trying to appear irritated but still smiling. "Clint dragged me on one recently with Bruce and Tony. I'm not even sure it's a real thing or if they just made it up, but it was fun, nonetheless. Although, it'd probably be fun to actually go with my _female_ best friend…"

The idea of Natasha sitting at a table with Clint, Tony, and Bruce to celebrate friendship and best friends was just too funny for Steve to picture without laughing some more. "Alright, Nat, you have a deal. We'll all go on a best friend double date when we get Bucky back."

"I'm holding you to it," Natasha said, scooping some more broccoli onto her plate. "Pepper will be thrilled."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "And you?"

Natasha shrugged. "I'll find enjoyment in it somehow." She set the serving spoon back into the bowl and turned to her plate. Before she picked up her fork to resume eating, she looked up at Steve and smiled sweetly.

"Can you pass the salt?"

Steve groaned.


	5. The Nightmare Before (Clip)mas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 5: Clip**
> 
> But Natasha was just _confused._ She looked at Steve, eyebrows furrowed and frown tugging at her lips, silently asking him what the hell that meant. He wanted _her_ to lead the Avengers in the case of his absence?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one went a little bit off course from its original intent, so, beware some random angst...but, don't worry, it gets funny by the end!

"Open my present first!"

Natasha sighed at the chorus of everyone yelling the same request directed at her. Today, everyone else had decided, was her birthday. Apparently, the idea of one of their own not celebrating her birthday hadn't sit well with the Avengers, and now she was the center of attention for the entire day.

After Tony had dragged her out of bed and led her to where the others surprised her with a cake at four in the morning (Natasha _still_ had yet to forgive any of them for that, especially after seeing Pepper stroll into the room looking well-rested a good four hours later, meaning _she_ had been spared from the early morning surprise), Natasha resigned to her fate. So far, her day had actually been pretty fun, and she found herself really enjoying the idea of doing this annually.

But after Tony squealed something about presents after dinner, chaos ensued. Everyone ran and jumped around frantically, trying to grab their gifts to present to Natasha first. Now, they were all sitting in the penthouse, groups huddled together on couches on the cold December night - _Christmas Eve_ , Natasha begrudgingly remembered, silently wondering, once again, why the hell _that_ was the date they had chosen for her 'birthday' - and looking at Natasha expectantly over their gifts.

"Naturally, _I_ should go first," Pepper said, head held high, even though she was snuggled into Tony's side. He just frowned at her bold declaration, but she looked as determined as ever. "Ladies and best friends first."

"If it's best friends first, then _I_ should go first," Clint said, holding his wrapped box over his Santa Claus hat-covered head. He looked really funny, in Natasha's opinion. "After all, I was Tasha's _first_ best friend."

"Her first _guy_ best friend," Pepper said, unconvinced. "In the four years Natasha and I have known each other, we've come a long way since our initial distrust."

Natasha smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she said, because, even though she had just been following orders, she wished she could have gotten off on a better foot with Pepper. Especially now that Natasha knew she would end up living in Pepper's (and Tony's) home, and spending so much time with her.

Pepper dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "I wouldn't change a thing, Natasha. Honestly. Which is why you should open _my_ gift first."

Back to this again. Natasha sighed once more.

"No way, _my_ gift first!" Tony said. "I'm the leader of the Avengers, after all!"

Thor barked a deep, loud laugh at that. "Surely you jest, Stark. The Captain is our leader."

Steve just looked tired from his spot beside Natasha. She had opted to lean against the couch arm instead of Steve's arm, knowing that everyone would start making some teasing comments about them being a _thing_ , or whatever, if they were caught cuddling. (But what was so wrong with that? Steve was a _great_ cuddler, Natasha had found, over the last few months they'd spent together; not that they _were_ together, like everyone thought they were, of course not...that's just silly.)

"I'm his second-in-command," Tony said with a proud _huff_ , sitting up a little straighter, despite Pepper's protests at jostling her comfortable position leaning against his side. "Isn't that right, Capsicle?"

"I hope not," Bruce murmured softly to himself from the other side of Tony. Natasha smirked.

"You are confused, Stark. Should the Captain ever need someone to stand in his place, I would assume that position," Thor said, gently pushing his present closer to Natasha along the floor. "Which is why I shall be the first to present Widow with a gift."

Clint placed his present between where Thor's was sitting and where Natasha was sitting on the couch. "Excuse you, but this is _my_ spot."

"And the second-in-command spot is _mine_ as well!" Tony said, pointing a finger accusingly at Thor.

Thor and Tony stared intensely at each other from across the space between the couches for a few moments before turning expectantly to Steve.

Natasha, too, looked to their leader, curious about his opinion on the matter. She would assume Tony to be his choice - despite all the surface problems that would inevitably arise from that - and Thor to be...well, Thor was Thor, and Thor also had to protect Asgard. He needed to be able to move between both worlds with ease and without worry for his Midgardian team. Tony may have had his... _personality_ , but Natasha could see him being a good, tactical leader.

But Steve shook his head. "Neither of you."

The looks on their faces - Natasha was going to have to hack into JARVIS' system later to grab some screenshots of them, because they were just _that_ good. Tony's jaw actually _dropped_ , and Pepper was patting his arm sympathetically, but she didn't look very surprised. Thor, meanwhile, looked between Steve and Tony, confused.

"What does this mean, Captain? Who is your second-in-command, then, if not Stark or I?"

Natasha had to admit she herself was curious of this as well. If not Tony or Thor, that left Clint and Bruce. She excluded herself, of course, because there was _no way_ that Steve would choose-

"Natasha," Steve said, not missing a beat nor sounding the least bit unsure. No, he sounded _very_ sure in his answer.

Everyone was silent for a moment, staring at Steve; there was just so _much_ to say. Like, for starters, _Steve, we all know you're crushing on Natasha like there's no tomorrow, but this is no way to express it._ Or the fact that Natasha was a (slightly enhanced) mortal human who was being left in charge of these people?!

Pepper and Clint both smiled knowingly after a moment, and Bruce just shrugged his neutrality toward the issue. Tony looked outright offended, and Thor regarded Steve's decision seriously.

But Natasha was just _confused._ She looked at Steve, eyebrows furrowed and frown tugging at her lips, silently asking him what the hell that meant. He wanted _her_ to lead the Avengers in the case of his absence?

(Natasha quickly dismissed that fact, though, because she didn't want to think about him being gone.)

"She's usually the one most in control, and very knowledgeable in most situations. Whenever one of the rest of us stumbles, Nat's there to pick up the slack. I think she'd make a great leader," Steve said earnestly, looking at everyone else except Natasha.

"Tasha does usually know what's going on, well, _all of the time_ ," Clint said, agreeing with Steve's choice. He sent Natasha a small, teasing smile, which she rolled her eyes at.

"I understand." Thor nodded. "Romanoff _is_ a wise choice for this matter, I believe."

Bruce didn't look like he was going to argue, and Pepper was just smiling and nodding her agreement excitedly. Tony sighed.

"Alright. Fine. I guess Natashalie's an... _okay_ choice."

That was Tony-speak for, "Yeah, I can see where you're coming from, Steve."

Steve then looked to Natasha. "If this is alright with you, of course."

She had a choice in this? Choices weren't something she was used to getting for most of her life. But Steve was offering her one now. Just like Clint had when he first found her, and how the rest of the Avengers treated her, well, _normally_ over the years…

But Natasha found herself naturally nodding her consent. "I'd rather you lead, though."

"Planning on it. This is just for emergencies," Steve assured her, though the true meaning of 'emergencies' being 'my death' was clear to everyone.

Natasha didn't like that. She smiled a bit at him, and gave into her desire to lean against him. It was comfortable, as expected, and that simple gesture lifted her mood more than she thought it would. She exhaled softly, resisting the urge to close her tired eyes and fall asleep, curled up against Steve, then and there. "Okay."

Clint and Pepper both appeared happier at their sudden closeness, as they sent each other excited looks.

"Now that we've gotten that settled, _please_ open my gift first." Clint was back to begging now, crawling across the floor from where he had been sitting beside Thor's couch to where Natasha and Steve were, holding his small box up for her to take. "It's funny, I think you'll like it."

Oh, great, Natasha thought to herself. A funny present from Clint could mean _anything_ , which unnerved her a little bit. She reached out a tentative hand to grab it, ignoring Pepper's (playfully) betrayed expression from the other couch. "Is this going to blow up? JARVIS, scan for explosives."

Clint laughed while JARVIS scanned the box and reported no traces of anything. "Chill out, Tash, I just grabbed this off of Amazon last week when I saw it, 'cause it reminded me of you."

Natasha examined the box curiously for a moment, and then unwrapped it carefully. This whole 'opening presents' concept was still a bit new to her, and she wanted to cherish every second of it, since she'd never gotten to do it before. Finally opening, the box, she looked at the item inside for a moment, then looked to Clint, unamused and unsurprised.

"Clint."

"Tasha."

Steve looked over her shoulder to look at it, and instinctively recoiled back in surprise. "What...Clint!" He glared at Clint, who just snickered in response. "I thought that was _real_!"

"It's a hair clip," Natasha said, deadpan, holding up the shiny, black object: a spider-shaped hair clip. Or, more accurately, _a full-size and accurately scary-looking spider_ with a clip attached to the bottom, so Natasha could put it in her hair. _When would I ever need this?_ "A fucking terrifying hair clip, at that."

"Jesus Christ!" Tony had apparently latched onto Pepper's arm when Natasha revealed Clint's present to everyone, and Pepper was holding onto Tony with the same fearful expression. "Barton, what the actual _fuck_?"

"What? Her codename is _Black Widow_ ; it's _funny_!" Clint said with a grin, throwing his arms up in protest.

Thor laughed. "You Midgardians fear such petty things. On Asgard, we have beasts larger and mightier than this small, eight-legged insect that you quiver before."

Bruce looked at Thor. "Just last week, you tried to hit a spider we found in the gym with lightening. Again."

Thor sobered up at Bruce's comment, and sat back in his seat with a small pout. Clint was the one to laugh that time.

Natasha sighed. "You guys were the one who wanted to throw me a whole 'birthday' thing, so now we'll all suffer for it. Just please don't electrocute my head, Thor." She looked back at Steve. "Steve, can you help me put this in my hair?"

Everyone knew Natasha could do her own hair without help, or a mirror. Natasha knew it, too.

But she also knew Steve wouldn't say no to her.

He sighed dramatically, holding his hand out for the spider-clip. "As long as your hair clip doesn't bite me, sure."

Natasha chuckled at Steve's comment, lifting her hands to guide his in pinning her hair back. Pepper and Clint, meanwhile, were sending each other those _looks_ again, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

Pepper then stood, holding her own gift bag up. "Alright, that means it's _my_ turn for Natasha opening presents!"

And the vicious cycle started again. Steve sighed softly, and Natasha could feel his breath against the back of her neck. It was warm, but also somewhat comforting; it meant he was there, behind her, watching her back and supporting her.

(Even though he was just putting a fucking terrifying-looking hair clip in her hair.)


	6. (Bread)sticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 6: Bread**
> 
> Steve blinked, looking torn by which question to ask next. There were a million things he could ask her right now, like _why_ she had breadsticks in her purse, or why she had _breadsticks_ in her purse, or why she had breadsticks in her _purse._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am meme trash :))))

"Natasha?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you eating breadsticks from your purse?"

Natasha, mid-chew and half-eaten breadstick in hand, looked up from the television to Steve. Beside her was her purse, which contained a bag of breadsticks from Olive Garden (she had eaten there with Clint hours before for the sole purpose of hoarding breadsticks).

She swallowed, and maintained a neutral expression. "Because I'm hungry."

Steve blinked, looking torn by which question to ask next. There were a million things he could ask her right now, like _why_ she had breadsticks in her purse, or why she had _breadsticks_ in her purse, or why she had breadsticks in her _purse._ (The English language really was a gem when it came to word emphasis, she thought cynically.)

He finally settled for a shrug, accompanied by a shake of his head. "You know what? I've given up on trying to understand what goes on around here, with everyone. I'm just going to pretend this makes perfect sense."

Natasha couldn't blame him for his exasperation. Some _really_ weird things happened around the Tower, since there were six _weirdos_ living in it. Poor Steve had walked in on all of them reenacting the 2012 movie adaptation of _Les Mis_ _ _é_ rables_ a few days earlier, and was dubbed Jean Valjean by Thor, who pretended to be Javert. The rest of them, meanwhile, had been throwing furniture in a pile to recreate the barricade. That made Natasha's current breadstick heist a little less weird.

"Would you like a breadstick?" Natasha asked, pulling out a fresh breadstick and offering it to him. "You've been unfrozen for, what, two years now? Have you been to Olive Garden yet?"

"Can't say that I have," Steve answered earnestly, accepting the offered food gratefully. She patted the empty spot on the couch beside her, and he sat down, taking a small bite out of the breadstick. His eyes widened. "This is really good."

Natasha smirked into the breadstick she was currently finishing off. "That's what Olive Garden is known for. You really should go sometime, preferably soon. When you do, tell me, so I can tag along."

"Even though you just had it today? Aren't you tired of it?" Steve raised an eyebrow, taking another - much larger - bite.

"I'm never tired of good breadsticks," Natasha said, plopping the last bit of her breadstick into her mouth and chewing gracefully (well, at least, to _Steve_ it looked like she was chewing gracefully, as she did _everything_ gracefully in his eyes). "This is all Clint's fault. He's the one who introduced me to Olive Garden. Damn it, Barton."

Steve chuckled. "Well, you know what they say: a way to a girl's heart is through her stomach."

She shot him a playful glare at that, and Steve tried to take his words back. "I-I mean...it's not a _bad_ thing to eat, you should always eat something...I just…"

Natasha laughed - as Steve would say - _gracefully._ "I'm only teasing, Rogers. Really." She paused. "Also, I'm not dating Clint."

Steve actually looked surprised at that. "You're not? But...you two are so _close_! Easily the closest members on the team."

"No, we're just friends. _Best_ friends, as he would tell you," Natasha said. "I mean, any friend who takes me to Olive Garden and buys me enough breadsticks to hoard and eat for days is eligible to be upgraded to a _best_ friend, I suppose."

Steve saw the chance and jumped at it. "I guess I could take you to Olive Garden one of these days. Even though I have no idea where it is…"

Natasha leaned closer to him, smiling mischievously. "What, like on a _date_?"

He flushed again, spluttering for a moment in a poor attempt to regain his footing. "No, _no_ , not on a date...not... _romantically._ I was thinking, just, maybe, uh...after a mission, or something, we could...stop by there on our way home...if that's okay with you?"

She felt a little guilty for playing with him (even though the result was _hilarious_ ). "Just joking, Rogers. Again."

Steve looked at her more fearlessly then, and something momentarily passed over his features. Was that...was that _disappointment_? No, Natasha told herself; she _must_ be seeing things. There was no way Steve would be _sad_ about not going on a date with _her._ He should be _relieved._ "Oh. Well, then we can still go after a mission sometime, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," Natasha echoed, leaning back against the couch. She relaxed her muscles, and retrieved another breadstick from her purse. "Would you like another breadstick?"

Natasha's answer hadn't really been a yes or no, but at least it wasn't a no. It was _something_ , and, whatever it was, it made Steve feel _good._ He wasn't sure why. "Yes, please."

With a smile, she handed him another. "I'm telling you, Cap; breadsticks are the food of the gods."

Steve thoughtfully took a bite. "Hmm...has Thor tried these yet?"

As if on cue, Thor's voice drifted into the room from down the hall. "TELL ME WHERE THE WIDOW IS! I NEED MORE OF THIS MIDGARDIAN SUSTENANCE!"

"Uh oh," Natasha said, quickly stuffing the rest of her current breadstick in her mouth as heavy footsteps approached from the same direction Thor's voice had originated. "Every Avenger for herself; sorry, Steve!"

Her words were muffled by her chewing, and, before Steve could say anything, Natasha had packed up the rest of her stash and zipped up her purse. She jumped up from the couch, threw her bag over her shoulder, and darted out of the room down the hall opposite where Thor was coming.

When Thor came, he immediately saw the breadstick in Steve's hand. "The Captain possesses this food as well? Share with your brethren, leader!"

Thor pounced - well, ran up to Steve and _ripped_ the breadstick from his hand - and Steve sighed. Of course Natasha would leave him to die at the hands of their local Asgardian demi-god; she was tactical like that.

But there was something more pressing currently on Steve's mind:

Natasha had called him _Steve_.


	7. Damn (Fish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 7: Fish**
> 
> Of course, in Natasha's opinion, the name _Steve_ was pretty cute, too, as was the face behind the name. (But you would catch her _dead_ saying such a thing out loud.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Senior year is very exhausting, and I've only been through one week of it! At least it's fun so far. :) This chapter was inspired by all my fun friends at school who _loooooove_ Betta fish!

"This is my Betta fish and her name is Рыба."

Natasha smiled proudly as she held up the bag containing her new, bright orange friend. She wasn't exactly an animal or pet person, per se, but fish were fine. They just needed to be fed every day and have their tank cleaned every once in a while. That was a _lot_ better than an active and energetic pet, like a dog or cat, in Natasha's opinion.

But Steve didn't look as enamored. He looked _confused._ And rightfully so; they were on an undercover mission in California, which they had just completed, _supposed_ to be waiting for their extraction from S.H.I.E.L.D...when Natasha had spontaneously darted into a pet store and run back out not a minute later with a fishy companion.

"...What's a _Betta_ fish?"

"A fish," Natasha said with a shrug. "It's just a type of fish that a lot of people like to have as pets."

"Why?"

Sometimes, Steve seemed to act no older than a child; his curiosity and optimism usually gave Natasha that impression, anyway. "I don't know. Fish are low-maintenance while still lovable, I guess."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Didn't take you for a fish-lover."

Natasha _winked_ at him. "There are many things you don't know about me, Cap. My affinity for fish is one of them."

"Have you always loved fish?" he asked.

"More or less," she said. "This is actually Coulson's fault."

Steve had apparently expected a much _different_ answer. "Coulson? What'd he do?"

"Back when I was new to S.H.I.E.L.D. and Barton and I hardly got along, Coulson decided he'd buy two fish, name them after us, and see which one lives longer to settle whatever argument we were having. But the bastard forgot to feed them, and I felt bad for them, so I would feed them when no one was looking; I unintentionally helped Hawkfish win."

Steve laughed at the name. "Hawk _fish_?"

"Coulson's choice, not mine," Natasha said, looking at her own fish once more. "Mine was Fish Widow. She was a real fighter, but I think Hawkfish stole her food when I wasn't looking. Just like Clint probably would. Anyway, Coulson's _real_ intention wasn't just pitting fish versions of myself and Clint against each other, it was more profound. In a way. 'The coldhearted Russian assassin couldn't resist helping a couple of fish,' or something like that."

"Though you may not seem like the fish or pet type, I'd expect you to be the type who couldn't let something helpless, like a fish, just die." Steve smiled.

Natasha playfully rolled her eyes. "Apparently, that's the same character assessment Coulson had made of me. It convinced Fury I wasn't really rotten to the core, believe it or not. Pretty strange, though. Anyway, Betta fish have been a personal favorite of mine ever since. I think Barton may have one in his room at the Tower, too."

"I'll have to look next time I go in there," Steve said, turning his attention back to the street to look out for their ride. "I've never been in there before, though."

"It's a wasteland in his room, don't bother," Natasha said, watching her fish swim around in the bag. "In the meantime, Рыба will join Кит."

"Кит? Рыба?" The names sounded awkward on Steve's non-Russian tongue, but he tried his best. "I'm sensing a trend with these names."

"'Рыба' means 'fish'; 'Кит' means 'whale.'"

"I now spot two: Russian _and_ aquatic."

"Pretty much."

Steve put his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual; Natasha could have laughed at the sight. "So, is Кит really as big as a whale?"

"Not really. I just thought it would be a cute name," Natasha admitted. "Cute things deserve cute names."

Of course, in Natasha's opinion, the name _Steve_ was pretty cute, too, as was the face behind the name. (But you would catch her _dead_ saying such a thing out loud.)

Little did Natasha know, Steve thought her name and face were cute, too.

But, of course, _he_ wouldn't vocalize that either.

"Can't argue that logic," he said instead, catching sight of a black van driving up the street toward them. Natasha watched it as well, meaning it was most likely their ride back to base for further transportation back to Washington, D.C. "Your fish is pretty cute."

"Thanks," Natasha said, smirking and holding Рыба out for Steve to take. "You want to hold her?"

Steve chuckled a bit, taking the bag from Natasha's hands with an amused expression. "She makes a nice companion, I guess. You gonna train her to fight?"

"You're hilarious, Rogers."

"What? It was an innocent question!"

Natasha stared at him. "Just give me back the damn fish, Rogers."

He grinned; she groaned (internally). "I don't think Рыба would want to be referred to as a 'damn fish.'"

Perhaps she'd rubbed off on Steve a bit _too_ much, snark-wise, in the year they'd been partners (had that been part of Fury's plan in pairing them up?). She sighed."Again, top-class humor, wonderful, bravo, and all of that. Now give me back my fish."

But he wasn't finished yet. "Magic word?"

She punched his arm. " _Please._ "

He handed the bag back to her, rubbing the spot on his arm that she had hit (though, obviously, it didn't hurt _that_ much; he was a _super soldier_!). "No need to get violent. Look, it's time to go home."

The S.H.I.E.L.D. van parked on the curb beside them, and the door flew open, revealing Maria Hill. She looked between Steve, Natasha, and Рыба, looking fairly unsurprised at their new addition; Steve wondered if Maria had been involved with Coulson's Betta fish scheme from Natasha's story.

"We need you two," Maria said as they climbed in, closing the door behind them and settling in their seats, "on another mission. Tomorrow." The van resumed traveling down the street, driven by an agent Steve couldn't identify.

" _Tomorrow_?" Steve echoed, eyebrow raised. "Why so soon?"

Maria smirked. "Well, Cap, you've been in Southern California for the past three days. We can't leave without doing some tidying up in Northern California, now, can we? Ever heard of Sacramento?"

Steve exhaled deeply, feeling worn out from their past few weeks of back-to-back missions; it seemed like it wouldn't end quite yet. Natasha handed Рыба to Maria.

"You can do whatever you want with us, Hill, but make sure to feed Рыба, and take her back to the Tower if you have time," Natasha said casually, as if returning from a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission with a new pet Betta fish wasn't the weirdest thing in the world.

And, again, Maria didn't appear fazed at _all_ by the behavior most would assume to be _completely_ out of character for Natasha. Steve was excited to start to see this playful and human side of Natasha.

She just looked so... _adorable_ talking about Рыба the Betta fish, Steve momentarily debated buying Natasha _all_ of the Betta fish in the world (if it were possible, that is). That would probably win her over, right?


	8. (Race) You to the Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 8: Race**
> 
> Steve kind-of-sort-of owed her a date. What was supposed to be their first date turned into the Lemurian Star mission, which turned into an argument, which was coincidentally timed no more than a few days before Nick Fury's 'assassination' in Steve's apartment, which spurred a whole chain reaction of events that Natasha wasn't really sure counted as a first date or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't mean to leave this story hanging, guys! Hopefully I'll get better at managing my time soon. XD

"You're _jealous_."

Natasha whipped her head around at Tony's teasing accusation, eyes flashing defensively and frown deepening. Meanwhile, Tony, fearless of Natasha's wrath, smiled smugly and looked as casual as ever.

"What are you talking about?" she inquired coolly, though the slight anger in her eyes was evident to him.

He shrugged innocently, drumming his fingers against the kitchen counter top. "Gee, I dunno, that one guy you just casually saved the world with a few weeks ago and won't stop talking about. Or asking me to spy on. Really, you're not as subtle as you think you are."

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, carefully picking her battle out of the multiple options Tony had laid out for her in his words. "What does that have to do with being jealous?"

"Uh, _everything_ ," he said, as if the answer was obvious. He gestured to his tablet sitting on the kitchen counter, pictures of Steve and the locations Tony tracked his phone to littering the screen. "Every time you see Bird Boy Number Two hanging with Capsicle, you do this weird... _eye twitch_ thing."

This was ridiculous. "I do not."

But Tony was nothing if not ridiculous. "Do too. Or, at least, you do ever-so-slightly to me. I'm so glad you trust me enough to make little microexpressions for your feelings; really, I'm honored."

She stared hard at him, hoping her unwavering gaze would shake him. (It didn't.) "I'm just worried about Cap. He's got a lot going on; I'm his partner, so I care."

Tony, leaning against the counter, grabbed his glass of water and met Natasha's eyes over the rim, gesturing to her with his index finger. "See, here's the thing: I have this theory that you care more about everyone than you let on."

"And?"

"And you don't just care about people because it's your _job_ ; you _genuinely_ care."

Natasha shifted awkwardly on her feet, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the turn their conversation had just taken. What had started out as another 'innocent' request to see how Steve was doing, where he's been, what he's up to, had now become an evaluation of Natasha's skittish behavior on the matter. Well, at least, _she_ thought it to be skittish, and, apparently, so did Tony; he was better at reading people than he let on.

Ever since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and rise of H.Y.D.R.A. weeks before, Natasha had been all but kidnapped by Pepper Potts to live at Avengers' Tower for a bit, to get back on her feet and regroup. It was also almost time for their monthly Avengers check in at that time, too, anyway, so Natasha didn't try fighting Pepper too hard on it.

But Steve missed their monthly check in. He reported back via video call instead of physically, which, while understandable, considering his careful search for Bucky he was conducting as of now, saddened everyone a bit more than they would have expected. Tony especially was worried, which was why he was so willing to help Natasha basically _stalk_ Steve virtually since then.

Sam Wilson was traveling with Steve, trying to help him find his lost friend. But Natasha wasn't jealous. No way, Jose. No, no, no. Love is for children, as was the accompanying jealousy; she didn't have time for Tony's childish accusations.

Nor his sudden introspective look on her nature and the fronts she put up. It wasn't that she hid her care for others, per se; she just didn't express it much, aside from having the others' backs in battle.

"Look," Tony said when she didn't reply, "maybe you're fine with moping around all day, pining for Rogers, but _I'm_ not."

"I'm not…" Natasha began, but stopped. There was no use in fighting Tony when he got these kinds of ideas in his head. She sighed. "I care."

"As do I." He nodded. "Which is why I decided to call him and ask him to come."

She nearly _started_ at that. "What do you mean you _asked him to come_? He's out looking for Barnes with Wilson; he doesn't have time!"

"He does when he hits a dead end," Tony said calmly, sipping his water once more. "He needs some time to chill out, contemplate his life choices and all of that. So I told him to give his feathered friend and himself a little break to recuperate - separately, mind you - after everything that's been happening."

Well...Natasha couldn't argue that. She _was_ a bit concerned with his eagerness to just jump back into the dangerous world of field work - this time, not protected by S.H.I.E.L.D. (or her) - after the whole Triskelion crisis. Maybe some time off would do good.

(And, though she wouldn't tell Tony, Steve kind-of-sort-of owed her a date. What was supposed to be their first date turned into the Lemurian Star mission, which turned into an argument, which was coincidentally timed no more than a few days before Nick Fury's 'assassination' in Steve's apartment, which spurred a whole chain reaction of events that Natasha wasn't really sure counted as a first date or not. All she knew was the level of closeness they achieved during that entire time was probably more than what first dates typically produced, but there was no dining or watching a movie or stereotypical romance involved.)

" _Sir, Captain Rogers is in the underground garage. Shall I let him in?"_

Natasha looked at Tony helplessly. "He's already _here_?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I kinda called him, like, the other day, actually." Tony grinned, and Natasha put her hands on her hips. He raised his appendages defensively. "Hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

She sighed once more, deciding she better make the most of this situation before Tony made it _more_ awkward. "I'll go walk him up."

It really wasn't necessary, since Steve would just be coming up to the penthouse anyway, but Natasha wanted some time alone with him before Tony hounded them about their 'relationship' (they were just _friends_ , Natasha had to remind him daily).

"Give him a kiss from me," Tony called after her as she walked out of the room. Had she not been moments away from stepping into the elevator, she would have retaliated in some way.

As the elevator took her down to the garage level, she leaned back against the wall and sighed. Did she _really_ make jealous microexpressions? Tony _must_ have been bluffing, right? Projecting his own concerns for Steve's safety and possible jealousy of Steve's new companion onto Natasha?

_No_ , a small, matured voice inside of her disagreed. _You miss being Steve's partner._

She did. Even though it had only been a few weeks that she hadn't worked with him, she already missed her position by his side dearly. Sam Wilson was good, but she wasn't one to trust quickly; would he _really_ be better at having Steve's back than her?

(Well, the last time she was supposed to have had his back, she found him half-dead in the Potomac, so maybe this change was better for Steve.)

When the elevator doors opened and revealed Steve standing there, his expression brightening as he caught sight of Natasha, her jumbled thoughts finally left her alone. She managed to return the smile to him as she stepped out of the elevator.

"Long time no see, soldier," she greeted casually.

"Long time no see," he echoed her, looking and sounding cheerful. "How have things been around here?"

"Crazy. Eventful. You know, any day spent with any of the Avengers is never dull," Natasha said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You haven't missed much."

"So everyone's okay?"

"Yep."

"Good. I was worried, since I missed the check in. Sorry about that, by the way; we thought we were on the right track…"

She shook her head. "It's okay, you're not going to find him overnight. Just give it time."

There was a break in the conversation there, and it was then that Natasha realized she'd done the wrong thing; Steve was supposed to _enter_ the elevator and ride it back up with her, yet she'd exited it and stood in front of him. The silence craved closure from their questionable first date, of whether or not it even _was_ a first date, or when they'd try to have _another_ first date.

Now it was just _awkward._

So she panicked. In style, of course. "Well, we should still punish you for missing the check in, anyway. Rules are rules. You're still in shape, I'm assuming?"

He looked at her curiously. "Yes, I am…"

She reached her arm behind her, the elevator doors opening as they sensed her incoming closeness. "Well, then, I'll race you back up to the penthouse!"

Steve looked at her, confused, at that. "Natasha, what-"

"The stairs are to your left, Cap! Last one there's a broken arrow!" she teased with a smirk. (Damn Clint Barton for influencing her speech when she wasn't paying attention. _Damn him._ )

"Natasha!"

The elevator doors closed, the last thing Steve saw being Natasha's smug expression. He stood there for a moment, still taken aback by her sudden 'punishment,' before pulling himself together.

He jogged toward the stairwell, and continued upward after that. It was a losing race for him, he was sure, but he didn't mind.

The only race he cared about at the moment was winning Natasha over for a second first date before she tried setting him up with strangers again.


	9. (Poor) Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 9: Poor**
> 
> She was _definitely_ more tired than she was letting on, Steve decided, because this just sounded _silly_ coming from her mouth. She was _nowhere_ near as old as him! There was no way...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here we are with the next chapter! Thanks for all your support so far, guys. :)

Steve sighed at the time displayed on his phone: 3:02 AM. Despite what people may think about super soldiers, or S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, or Avengers, or _whatever_ labels one could apply to Steve Rogers (because there were a lot), he was _not_ the guy you'd find still awake at 3 AM for no reason.

Compared to his teammates, that guy was Tony Stark, or Bruce Banner, or Clint Barton...really, all three of them were usually seen sporting baggy eyes, consistent yawning patterns, and nursing a mug of coffee at _least_ once every hour. Aside from the so-called _life sustenance_ (coffee, as referred to by Tony and agreed upon by the rest of the team) having practically zero effect on Steve due to the serum, he liked to sleep early and get up early. It was as simple as that.

His partner, however, was not _quite_ as much of a morning person as him. No, currently, Natasha was sitting across the table from him and looked like she was ready to stab someone with her fork, despite the peaceful silence the empty IHOP they were in offered them.

Instinctively (and a little fearfully), Steve had retrieved the silverware from Natasha's side of the table when the poor, brunette waitress on duty had seated them with a tired and pained smile. Steve made a mental note to tip her well when they were done eating.

Natasha appeared to be in no position to do such a generous thing. She had her normal stoic expression about her, sure, but there was something _fierce_ about the tiredness in her eyes that made Steve grip the confiscated set of utensils as well as his own a little more tightly, a bit fearful she would snatch it from him at any moment.

"Fuck Fury," she finally mumbled, wiping at her sleepy eyes with a fist. It looked strangely cute, Natasha in her mission uniform and innocently trying to rub the exhaustion out of her face with her hand. But Steve calculated he'd probably have at _least_ one hundred percent _more_ of a chance of being killed for verbally observing such a thing than normal. So he withheld the comment.

"Fury can't control the bad guys in the world," Steve gently reminded, but immediately retracted when Natasha stopped looking cute and resumed looking especially pissed off. Whoops.

"But he _does_ control who takes what mission and whatnot...we've been on so many back-to-back missions lately, and he thinks we can just take a two hour IHOP break in the middle of the night and be ready for _another_ mission afterward?" Natasha frowned. "This is worse than when I worked with Barton. Jesus."

Her voice trailed off with a yawn, and Steve felt genuinely bad for her. She'd been on a few solo missions before their most recent batch of partner assignments, so it was only natural she'd be so worn out by now. He briefly considered talking to Fury about it, but quickly dismissed the idea as he knew it would greatly offend Natasha.

"Well, at least we get to have a pancake break," Steve said, trying to offer some light to their particularly gloomy situation. "I'm still new to these pancake things...and the whole modern concept of breakfast food, for that matter. So, I appreciate the opportunity to try some more."

Natasha leaned her cheek against her fist, sipping her water through a straw. The red in her eyes contrasted the green, only emphasizing even _farther_ how much she needed to just _sleep._ "That's right," she said softly, her voice only an echo of its usual, distinctive sharpness, "you missed out on the whole blow-up of commercial eating and shit last century. Portions grew bigger, Americans grew fatter. Actually, you didn't miss out on _that_ much."

She was rambling now, a telltale sign of her mental state. Steve offered her a sympathetic smile. "Back in my day, being fat was still seen as a sign of wealth; only the rich could afford to eat so much."

"And the poor were left starving and skinny." Natasha gave a slight, knowing nod. "I remember those days."

Ah, yes, Steve thought to himself, those days were- _wait_ , wait, wait... _what_? Natasha _remembered_ those days? She _remembered_ the early 1900s?

She was _definitely_ more tired than she was letting on, Steve decided, because this just sounded _silly_ coming from her mouth. She was _nowhere_ near as old as him! There was no way...

"It was the same in Russia," she continued, her Christmas-color-schemed eyes now closed, as if she were talking in her sleep to him. (Considering what she was saying right now, which Steve assumed to be nonsense, he wouldn't be surprised.) "The rich, fat bastards controlled _everything._ I was as skinny as a stick for as long as I can remember when I was a kid. Yay, capitalism."

And now she was making nonsensical comments about the economy; Steve just shook his head. "Natasha, correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't look a day over thirty, let alone from the _1930s._ "

It took a moment, but then Natasha opened her eyes _slightly_ wider than before. She raised her head from her fist, her empty gaze landing on the table for a moment. "Shit," she murmured to herself, before raising her eyes back to meet Steve's. "Shit."

"You've lost me." Actually, she _hadn't_ , Steve knew what she was implying now; somehow, Natasha was actually as old as _him_! His mind burned with the instant questions that came to him: how? why? when? _what_?

But Natasha shook her head, trying to dismiss the topic. "It's nothing. Tell me more about what it's like to be a poor kid in Brooklyn."

Steve frowned. "Natasha, you're hiding something."

"Sshh, don't be silly," she said through a yawn. "I wasn't born during the Roaring '20s. No way, Jose; that's physically _impossible_. I'm from the pop-culturey 80s. But enough of that; I want to hear more about _you_."

Now this was just getting _ridiculous._ Steve leaned forward in his seat, closer to her already half-asleep expression. "Are you saying you're as old as me?"

Natasha suddenly relented, and shrugged casually. "If you round up a few years, then, yeah, I guess. I should apply for retirement."

He gaped at her, and had to remind himself to adjust the volume of his voice before he spoke (otherwise, he would be _yelling_ ). "You're as _old_ as _me_? _Why_ didn't you tell me? _Natasha_!"

"It was my dirty little secret; dermatologists everywhere hate me," Natasha said offhandedly, chuckling at her own joke and leaning back against her half of the booth. "When are my pancakes coming?"

Unbelievable. Steve stared at her for a moment longer, hoping for a clearer answer, but then decided to drop it. He could drill her about it later, after she was sobered up through pancakes.

"Steve, really, I'm intrigued," Natasha continued, looking at him more curiously now. "What was life on the streets like for you?"

She was asking as if she'd had her own personal and relatable experience with such a lifestyle; that must have been part of her secret past ( _very_ past, like, _ninety years ago_ past) life she'd just accidentally revealed, Steve decided. He relaxed a bit. "Well, for starters, I wasn't quite out on the streets. I lived with my ma in an apartment, but we were pretty poor. She worked really hard to provide for us after my dad died in the Great War, but it was tough, y'know? The Great Depression was going on and all."

Natasha nodded. "A lot of people were poor then."

"A _lot_ ," Steve agreed, nodding once. "We scrambled for food more often than not, but we hung in there pretty well. Especially considering all of my health problems...that's why Bucky was such a huge help. He looked out for me when my ma couldn't, even when I thought I didn't need it."

"He was practically your brother," Natasha guessed, eyeing their approaching waitress, who was carrying two large plates of pancakes.

"Yeah," Steve agreed, smiling a bit as he saw what had caught Natasha's eye. "You like maple syrup?"

She hummed a bit. "More than all of the Avengers put together."

Her tone was playful, so Steve wasn't offended; if anything, he was amused and had to agree. Maple syrup _was_ pretty good, _always_ good and available to sweeten your breakfast food, unlike the Avengers, who could be grumpy or annoying or intruding in the morning.

Their waitress placed the large, steaming plates of pancakes between them with a polite smile. Steve returned the gesture while Natasha stared hungrily at her stack. Alex, the waitress, bid them good wishes on eating before walking away, leaving Natasha staring expectantly at Steve.

He was confused by her intense gaze for a moment, but then remembered the silverware he had confiscated from her when they first sat down. With a smirk, he slid the utensils bundled up in the napkin back to her.

"Just don't murder anyone," he cautioned.

"I'm too hungry," she insisted, reaching for the maple syrup between them. She held it up with a tired smile. "Cheers to our not poor, modern day lives."

Natasha seemed less secretive about her slip-up now, which Steve interpreted as a good sign for a real dialogue about the subject in the future. He let his curiosity fade to the back of his mind, deciding to put his questioning off until later.

So he nodded, holding up his glass of orange juice. "Cheers."

Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to find someone with shared life experience in this new time after all.


	10. A (Rich) Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 10: Rich**
> 
> Tony grinned a little. "Hey, by any chance, are you the lost Russian princess, Anastasia Romanov? I'm kind of in a bet with Banner over it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the break between the last chapter and this one, guys! School. Just...school. That is all.

"Tony, how much do you know about Natasha's past?"

At the sound of his name, Tony, sitting at the dining table, looked up at Steve, leaning against the kitchen counter. Tony took a sip from his mug of coffee as he processed Steve's question and began searching his mental archives for Natasha's file.

"Depends," he answered after a moment, looking at Steve through tired eyes. "Why are you asking?"

Steve's body tensed slightly at the question, as if he wasn't sure he could tell the truth. Tony waved his uncertainty off with a hand. "I see she's begun training you in the arts of 'classified information,' as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"It's not that," Steve said, shaking his head. "I just...she's my partner now, so I think I should know more about where she came from, right?"

"I suppose that makes sense." Tony traced the rim of the mug with his thumb. "Why are you asking me, though? Can't you just go read her S.H.I.E.L.D. file?"

"I don't want to freak her out." Steve scratched the back of his head. "And besides...I doubt I could actually read up on _everything_ about her in her file. I don't have all of the clearance in the world, either."

"I don't know much," Tony admitted, leaning back in his chair. "I just know she's a spy from Russia. Former KGB. Trained in the arts of killing since childhood. Not the best life."

"Sounds like none of us had a pretty great life," Steve observed.

"Very true. Also, she's got some serum-like thing keeping her in tip-top shape all of the time...honestly, at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be the lost princess Anastasia Romanov," Tony said.

_She just might be old enough to be,_ Steve thought to himself. "From some of the things she's said, she definitely wasn't rich, so that takes out the possibility of her being royalty."

"You keep up with all the shit she says?"

"I don't think it's all shit."

Tony shrugged. "She didn't make the most... _honest_ first impression on me, so I take everything she says with a grain of salt." He paused. "Although, with you, I think she's more honest to a fault than she realizes."

"Well, she can be pretty blunt."

"That's different. With _you_ , Romanoff is, like... _honest_. Damn, I need a thesaurus."

"So then she was _probably_ poor because she told _me_ she was poor."

"She's also pretty good at silently sneaking into rooms, don't you think?"

Steve and Tony looked up at Natasha standing in the doorway, looking refreshed from a full night's rest for the first time in _weeks_. Tony raised his hands innocently and defensively.

"He brought it up, not me." He gestured to Steve.

"I'm aware," Natasha said, moving next to Steve so she could prepare a cup of coffee for herself.

Steve scooted a few feet away to give her the proper room. "I was just curious, given our conversation a few nights ago. At that IHOP place, remember?"

Natasha placed her mug in the machine before looking back at Steve. "How could I ever forget such delicious pancakes?"

Tony grinned a little. "Hey, by any chance, are you the lost Russian princess, Anastasia Romanov? I'm kind of in a bet with Banner over it."

She gave him a bored look. "Do you _really_ think I'm the lost princess?"

"Sure, why not? You have a movie and everything." Tony hummed into his coffee as he tipped the mug back, taking the final sip. "Once upon a December…"

Natasha grabbed a spoon from the drawer, closing it a bit forcefully. Steve observed her as she looked at the shiny utensil, examining her reflection in the reflective silver. She turned back to Tony a moment later. "No, I'm not the lost princess Anastasia."

"Damn." Tony frowned, standing with his now empty mug. "I owe Banner ten bucks."

She sidestepped toward Steve, allowing Tony the room to walk through and discard his mug in the sink. Steve raised an eyebrow. "Why would you bet on something like that?"

"Because we were bored and curious," Tony shrugged, turning to exit the room. "I better go pay him before I forget; I'll leave you two to it."

As Tony walked out of earshot, Natasha grabbed her steaming coffee, and stirred some sugar into it. She scoffed under her breath. "That movie is so inaccurate…"

Steve sat down at the table, watching Natasha methodically add cream to her morning drink, the simplistic movement just as graceful to him as everything else she did. It was ridiculous. "I didn't mean to pry by asking Tony earlier, I just wanted to know if I was the only one not in the loop about...well, about _you_."

"Understandable." Natasha nodded, turning to join him at the table. She sat down across from him, her eyes green with empathy. "It would only be fair; I already know nearly everything about you, though your very public status made it that much easier. It would make sense for you to know about me."

"Well, I now at least know that you're not a princess," Steve said.

But Natasha shrugged. "I don't even know. Was it just a coincidence I shared the family name as Anastasia and the Russian czars? Who knows? Not me. I try not to get too hung up on it."

"Royalty or not, you're still you," Steve said, though he knew it was probably redundant; Natasha knew who she was and what she was capable of, regardless of her (unknown) familial relations. "Besides, if you were related, you wouldn't be poor, then, right?"

"I have memories...visions so faint, I'm not sure if they're even _mine_...something from a happier and healthier time, when food wasn't hard to come by, and people weren't cruel. I was happy." She shook her head and sighed, her eyes resting on the mug of darkness sitting before her. "But I don't know. Nothing in my head is very reliable."

"That's okay," Steve said, resisting the urge to cover one of her hands with his own. "It's the present-day you who matters, anyway. You just threw me off with your little…'confession' at IHOP a few days ago."

"My... _oh_." Natasha frowned for a moment, but it quickly turned into a grin, the melancholy in her eyes replaced with amusement. "I guess Tony was right; I _am_ more honest when I'm with you, because only a select number of people know about that."

"Fury? Barton?" Steve guessed.

Natasha nodded. "Hill. Coulson," she added. "Basically, we're the Team Grandparents."

Steve groaned, massaging his forehead with his fingers. "Even though all those jokes also apply to you, you _still_ make them?"

"Why not?" Natasha said, taking a sip of her finally cooled coffee. "Sometimes, Cap, the best way to get over things is to laugh at yourself. Try starting your day off making funny faces in the mirror someday; it's guaranteed to change the mood of your morning."

Now _that_ was a picture Steve enjoyed visualizing in his mind. Natasha's life, while still vague to him (and, it seemed, to _her_ ), needed more joyfully memorable moments. Maybe making faces in the mirror helped that.

"I have to give credit where credit is due," she continued a second later. "Barton got me into the habit of doing that, way back when. I am now passing on the partnerly advice to you."

Steve laughed. "Thank you. I'll be sure to try it out sometime."

"When you do, send me pictures. We need to know, between the two of us, who's better at taking duck-face selfies. It's going to come up in a future mission sometime, I just know it."

The fact that Natasha said this with a straight face just drew more laughter out of Steve.


	11. A (Name) To Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 11: Name**
> 
> As everyone went their separate ways into hiding, that left Natasha, standing alone in the rubble of the Triskelion and decades of S.H.I.E.L.D. history, to protect herself and the reputations of all of the _good_ agents within S.H.I.E.L.D. who had never been a part of this HYDRA mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gone forever I'm so sorry everyone but I just graduated high school so!!! I should have hella more time to write

Steve watched Natasha shrink down in her seat with as much subtlety as she could muster, her eyes darting back and forth to examine her surroundings. After catching sight of a few passers-by looking at her, _scrutinizing_ her with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, she cast her heavy eyes downward to her black take-out bowl.

"Nat, we can just take our food to go," Steve finally said, trying to break through the slightly frantic shade of green in her eyes. He glanced around at the people who'd stop to stare, frowning at their accusatory glares. "Let's just do that."

"No, it's okay," Natasha quickly insisted, tapping her fingers against the plastic utensils beside her the black bowl of chow mein and orange chicken. "Food from a mall food court is never as good when you take it to go. Trust me, I've lived in this century longer than you."

Her attempt at humor fell flat, as the soft snark she'd tried to inject in her tone did not meet her eyes, which continued to focus on the table beneath her hands. Steve sighed, trying hard not to pity Natasha (who _hated_ pity in any and every form).

In the months since S.H.I.E.L.D.'s fall and Natasha leaking previously private files all over the Internet, anyone associated with the former organization, which had been revealed to be housing HYDRA for decades, had been under scrutiny from the public eye. Steve would argue he had walked away from the incident the least wounded (though Natasha would disagree, as she would pull out his hospital records from his post-Winter Soldier encounter trip to the doctors as evidence), as his identity as Captain America had ultimately protected him from the worst of it.

Many previous agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. faded quietly into the general population, looking elsewhere for new jobs that could utilize their skill sets. Maria Hill moved to New York to work with Tony and Pepper. Nick Fury remained "dead" to the world, sneaking away to Europe before people could figure it out. As everyone went their separate ways into hiding, that left Natasha, standing alone in the rubble of the Triskelion and decades of S.H.I.E.L.D. history, to protect herself and the reputations of all of the _good_ agents within S.H.I.E.L.D. who had never been a part of this HYDRA mess.

Through interviews and trials and constant challenges, Natasha had to stand firm, as her own past and secrets had been included in the information leaked to the public. Everyone could easily recognize her as the Black Widow who'd fought with the Avengers in the Battle of New York, but now also acknowledged her past missions and mistakes.

(Which, because he would rather Natasha tell him her stories herself, Steve had yet to know the full extent or details of, but from the way every person who walked by their table in the food court looked at her, it seemed _pretty bad._ )

For Steve, the most painful part of it was Natasha's submission to it all. She allowed people to look at her as a villain, even treat her as such, without even meeting their eyes. It was almost as if she thought…

"I deserve it."

Natasha's quiet words cut through Steve's reflective thoughts, as he looked back to her. She didn't meet his eyes, instead choosing to look downward and off to the side; her posture suggested defeat, and she nervously played with her chopsticks in her right hand.

"Natasha," Steve scolded, hardening his gaze.

"I'm surprised you haven't Googled my name yet," Natasha said dryly, a self-deprecating smile playing at her lips. "Really. What are you waiting for?"

Steve maintained his steady demeanor. "I already told you. I want to learn about you from _you_ , not by reading some leaked files. I trust you to tell me in your own time."

"You shouldn't trust me," Natasha murmured to herself, maintaining that same grin.

"You shouldn't hurt yourself like this," Steve shot back, looking around at the people observing them, watching Natasha, as if waiting for her to make a move to endanger them all. "This doesn't solve anything."

"I'm not going to hide from the truth," Natasha argued, finally meeting Steve's eyes with her now fiery gaze. "I can't just pretend I'm innocent and deserve praise, because I don't."

"You're an Avenger, a _hero_ ," Steve reminded.

"I wasn't always," Natasha replied coolly, catching sight of more bystanders in her peripheral vision and looking down at her food once more.

"This won't undo anything," Steve said.

"But maybe it will prevent something," Natasha said softly, finally breaking her chopsticks up. She picked up a piece of orange chicken.

Steve glanced down at his own take-out bowl, which was a mirror of Natasha's, as he'd had no clue what to order from this "Panda Express" place. It was all new to him, so Natasha had ordered for him (earning some curious gazes from even the workers at Panda Express, who had also apparently read up on her files). He, however, grabbed a plastic fork, which he now picked up and used to gather some of the noodles.

"Look," Steve said, looking at Natasha through the noodles dangling from his fork, "the Avengers - _your friends_ \- we're all here to look out for you and keep you in check. We wouldn't _let_ you do something bad again, just like we know you wouldn't let any of us lose control like that."

"Lucky me," Natasha said sarcastically, eating her orange chicken. She swallowed, then stabbed the noodles with a bit more force than Steve believed necessary.

"Seriously, Nat, we're here for you, with whatever you need," Steve said earnestly.

"Just shut up and eat your chow mein," Natasha said lightly, gathering some chow mein on her own fork. He knew she'd still heard and understood what he'd just said, but didn't want to dwell on the subject any longer. "It tastes better while it's still hot."

Steve smiled, glad to have brought some of Natasha's old spunk back for the moment, and took a bite of his chow mein. It was...pretty good! He quickly gathered more on his fork, nodding at Natasha. "You were right, I do like this Panda place."

"It's unhealthy as hell, but it's so good," Natasha agreed, smiling a bit. "I love dragging you farther down in the levels of fast food hell."

"I can't wait to reach the ninth level, then," Steve joked, trying the orange chicken, which he also found to be quite enjoyable.

"Wait until you try Popeye's," Natasha said mischievously. "They have _great_ fried chicken and French fries."

"I'm excited."

Now that the conversation had lightened up and become jovial, Steve noticed some of the tension leaving Natasha's shoulders. Each time she looked up at him, she raised her chin just a bit higher, and her eyes held more and more of her teasing light. Steve couldn't help but smile.

As Natasha was finishing up her last few bites of chow mein, her eyes held a certain curiosity, and she looked to Steve inquisitively. "So...is this, like, our _second_ first date?"

Steve jumped slightly at the question, halting his motion to place his final piece of orange chicken in his mouth. "I mean...would you say it's going better than our _first_ first date?"

"Well, so far, there haven't been any missions, assassinations, or conspiracy theories proven to be true, so that's nice," Natasha said. "Although, eating Panda Express in the food court of a mall isn't really high quality romantic content, either."

"It's less stressful, so I think it counts," Steve said, raising his plastic cup of water. "Cheers?"

Natasha grabbed her cup, tapping it to Steve's. "Cheers. I'll drink to that."

As they each drank their respective cups of water, Steve found himself struggling to contain the forming smile on his lips. This was a _date. Their_ date. Just him and Natasha.

"Does this mean our next date will officially be our second date?" Natasha questioned when she finished drinking.

"I have no protests to that," Steve said, feeling a surge of pure _joy_ rush through him. Everything about Natasha just excited him to spend time with her and get to know her. "I'm looking forward to it."

(It almost felt like he loved her.)

"Our second date will be Popeye's, then," Natasha decided. She anxiously glanced around herself one final time, before giving Steve a sheepish grin. "I guess we can get it to go next time."

"I'd prefer it that way," he replied warmly.

(He wondered if she felt the same.)


	12. The Treacherous Disney (Vault)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt 12: Vault**
> 
> But Natasha...Natasha didn't look so good. Her eyes were as wide as when Steve had first mentioned the fact that they were Disney movies; she almost looked like Snow White herself, her skin bearing a lighter, paler shade than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really suck at updating this, don't I? I'm The Worst. I'm so sorry...so here's a longer oneshot. Oh, and fair warning, this one contains primarily ANGST. For those who watched season one of _Agent Carter_ , you'll know why Natasha would be a bit sensitive around Disney movies. Especially _Snow White_. (Yeah, I went there.) If you haven't seen _Agent Carter_ and don't know why Natasha reacts the way she does, it's alright, as there will be a follow-up to this chapter in which Steve learns what's going on.

Steve scratched the back of his head as he read through his 21st century "to do" list, studying his hastily scribbled cultural tasks that he had yet to complete. After spending more time with the Avengers after the Battle of New York, things for him to eat and watch and play and experience were thrown at him countlessly each day and quickly became hard to keep track of. Natasha then suggested he start keeping a list of these things, around the same time Fury assigned them to be mission partners; though Steve was as uncertain about the decision as Natasha seemed, with her side-eyed glances and teasing frowns, she started helping him with the list.

Today presented itself as an opportune time for Steve to knock some things out; he actually had the day _off_ , his first free time in a while. Coincidentally, Natasha had just returned to Avengers Tower from a mission and said she would hang out with him. Steve had to resist a smile when she said that (because not many people could say the infamous Black Widow was willing to just _hang out_ with them).

About a month prior, Tony had offhandedly mentioned something called the "Disney Vault" to Steve, which, after a quick internet search, he found to be a so-called "storage" in which Disney movies were held for years before being released to the public again. It sounded a bit... _capitalistic_ in nature to Steve, but Tony just shrugged and reassured him that JARVIS had access to any and every movie Steve wanted; he just had to ask for it.

That sounded like a fairly peaceful and enjoyable activity to Steve, so he decided that would be a fun way to pass the time with Natasha.

"Even though all of the movies are in some sort of vault, Tony said we can watch any of the ones we want," he explained to Natasha after they sat down on the couch together. Once he'd spoken the word "movie" to her, she'd raced off to the kitchen to make popcorn; the fruits of her labor currently sat in a white bowl between them. "There are _tons_ of movies here, though...I'm not sure which one to watch first."

Natasha eyed him over her handful of popcorn, slowly approaching her mouth. "What kinds of movies are these again?"

"Oh, Disney movies. So they're all animated," Steve explained, looking back to the TV of endless titles and options. He sighed. "The only ones I've seen are _Snow White_ and _Fantasia_ , though."

When he turned back to Natasha, he noticed her sudden change in demeanor. The direct passage of popcorn to her mouth had stopped, her full hand sitting idly just below her chin. She stared at him with wide eyes.

"Nat? Something wrong?"

His concern seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she'd entered as she blinked quickly and shook her head. "Nothing's wrong," she swiftly assured him while placing more popcorn in her mouth. "I just zoned out for a bit, sorry."

He wondered briefly why she would do that, but then recalled their conversations about her true age, which rivaled his in terms of years. "Did you see any of these movies while growing up?" He did the mental math. "You were probably an adult by then."

"I don't remember," Natasha dismissed him, her eyes darkening. Steve detected something fishy about her answer; she'd responded _too quickly_. She looked toward the TV. "Anyway, since this is your list, you can choose."

Deciding to let her avoidance pass, he nodded, also looking at the list on the TV. "Well...It's been over seventy years since I've seen _Snow White_ , and I'd really like to see it again, so let's start there."

He didn't look to Natasha for her response. JARVIS seemed to have automatically accepted his response, and the movie began. Steve leaned back against the couch with a smile, reaching his hand into the popcorn bowl. He recalled the first time he'd seen _Snow White_ ; he'd been _amazed_ , as he'd never seen anything like it. Though animation nowadays had developed levels beyond the quality of _Snow White_ , he still held it up in his mind as one of the greatest movies to date.

After a few minutes, he noticed Natasha had stopped eating the popcorn. Figuring she was either being polite (looking back on it, such a thought was _laughable_ , as Steve and the others had quickly found that the closer one gets to Natasha, the less manners she'd offer them) or had already eaten earlier and wasn't that hungry. Steve didn't think anything of it, simply focusing on the movie.

The music was still as catchy as he remembered it, Snow White's voice just as angelic as he had believed it to be the first time he'd seen it. If this was the quality Disney had started with, their newer movies must be _fantastic_ , Steve thought.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Steve's hand collided with the bottom of the popcorn bowl, his fingers brushing against the unpopped kernels. He turned away from the screen for the first time since the movie had started, looking down into the empty bowl.

"Guess I was hungrier than I thought," he said lightly, looking to Natasha.

But Natasha...Natasha didn't look so good. Her eyes were as wide as when Steve had first mentioned the fact that they were Disney movies; she almost looked like Snow White herself, her skin bearing a lighter, paler shade than before. Steve opened his mouth to ask her if she was okay, but Natasha beat him to it.

She grabbed the popcorn bowl quickly, her fingers trembling. "I-I can refill the popcorn."

"Nat, are you-"

"It's okay, I can do it," she continued, pulling the porcelain bowl into her lap with a nervous shudder. Her fingers tightened around the edges of the bowl. Her entire _face_ shook then, her lips quivering and eyes averting. Steve inhaled sharply as he recognized her expression; she was on the verge of tears!

"Are you...crying?" he asked bluntly and dumbly, too surprised by her sudden display of emotion (considering she usually wore a stoic expression or one of joy or mischief or anger when with the Avengers) to think clearly.

Natasha shook her head more quickly than she had before, the speed startling Steve. She hastily let go of the bowl with her right hand, wiping at her eyes with her forearm. She offered him an uneasy smile. "I just-I got something- _fuck_ -there's a thing in my eye."

Her words were as choppy as her movements, her arm lowering from her face at a disjointed rate as she squeezed the edge of the popcorn bowl between her fingers and her palm. She bit her lip, but her mouth continued to shake as the water continued gathering in her eyes.

Steve watched her fearfully, reaching a hand out toward her. "What's wrong?"

But she turned away from the hand, akin to a _flinch_ , squeezing her eyes shut. The bowl finally slipped from her grasp, falling to the ground beside the couch with a _clink_ , accompanied by the sounds of the kernels spilling out. "Nothing is _wrong_ , I just-I have to…"

Her voice died out, the sentence fading into an oblivion of the same uncertainty that Steve felt from witnessing this...this _breakdown_ , for lack of a better word. "JARVIS, stop the movie," he said. "Natasha, it's okay-"

She cut him off with a sob, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks as she ducked her head toward her lap and dug into her hair with her fingers. Everything about her behavior screamed _panic_ and _out of control_. Her cries grew louder as her shoulders rose and fell to the rhythm.

Steve gaped at her for a few moments before stretching his hand out once more, this time successfully reaching her shoulder. He gently curled his fingers around her shoulder blade. "Are you okay? Natasha? _Natasha_. Speak to me, _please_. How can I help you? _Natasha._ "

It was no use; her crying seemed to be as uncontrollable as the violent way her entire body shook and contorted in itself. She didn't respond to him. Steve started panicking. " _Natasha_."

"Cap!"

Steve turned at Tony's call, catching sight of the latter hurrying toward the couch. For a moment, Steve wondered how Tony knew what was going on, but quickly remembered JARVIS looked out for everyone's health as long as they were in the tower. And Tony was a bit of a control freak, so he usually kept tabs on whatever JARVIS was keeping tabs on.

That didn't matter to Steve right now, though; Tony looked concerned as he skidded to a stop beside the couch, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open, but he didn't look nearly as surprised as Steve felt. Did Tony know what was going on with Natasha?

"Tony, what-"

"Help me carry her," Tony cut him off, walking around the couch and grabbing Natasha's arm. "Tasha, hey, it's me, Tony, I'm just gonna help you out here a bit, okay? Don't use your scary glare on me." Gently, he pried her fingers from her hair, and lowered himself so Natasha could drape her arm over his shoulders. Steve quickly mirrored what he did, carefully untangling Natasha's fingers and pulling her arm to him. Tony motioned for Steve to place Natasha's arm on his shoulders, as Tony had done, so they could help Natasha stand. "We need to get her back to her room, in bed."

Steve didn't ask any questions this time, simply nodding and raising Natasha with Tony. She continued to look down, her tears falling straight from her eyes down toward the floor. The vocal aspect of her crying quieted a bit as they'd lifted her, and her feet cooperated with Tony and Steve as they walked her from the couch and through the rest of the penthouse toward the hallway of bedrooms.

Though Natasha's condition made the trip take longer than it should have, the time passed in a blur for Steve; he couldn't stop seeing her conflicted expression as she tried to hold back the tears, nor could he stop hearing her pained cries. A part of him yearned for answers and explanations as to _what_ was this and _why_ this was happening. He'd never even seen Natasha _remotely_ sad before, so this was an extreme degree he felt propelled to.

Finally, they reached Natasha's room, Tony carelessly throwing the door open with his hand not supporting Natasha. Steve hadn't spent much time in Natasha's room before, only in passing conversations or to borrow something, but it still appeared as (deceptively, he would later learn) clean as ever. Tony's face was one of complete concentration as they waddled to the bed with Natasha. Upon reaching the side of the bed, Tony lifted the red covers and light blue layers of blankets to clear the path for Natasha. Steve simply held onto Natasha as he worked, patiently waiting for Tony's next instructions.

"Nat, hey, we're gonna lay you down here, okay? This is your bed," Tony spoke softly to Natasha, lowering her arm from his shoulders; Steve followed his actions.

Though Natasha didn't respond to Tony, she managed to regain enough control of herself to place her hands down on the bed and force her body to move with her. She clambered into the bed, lacking the normal grace Steve usually witnessed her display, swiftly pulling the blankets over most of her body and burying her head in her pillow. Even through the layers, Steve could make out the still shaking shape of her body; he could still hear her cries through her pillow.

Before he could do or say anything, however, Tony placed a hand on his arm, gesturing with his head for them to walk back out into the hall. Steve followed numbly, casting a worried glance back at Natasha on the way before stopping outside with Tony.

Tony closed the door behind them and led him a little farther down the hall. Steve figured he didn't want to disturb Natasha.

"Okay," Tony said, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "You have questions. I can sense it."

"What the hell was that?" Steve demanded, trying to keep his voice down so Natasha wouldn't overhear. He didn't mean to be harsh with Tony; he was just so _worried_ about Natasha, and so _confused_ about what made her react in such a way.

"It's...something," Tony answered. Steve glared. "Look, I don't know much about it myself, alright? I've only ever seen this happen _one_ other time; it's pretty rare."

"Was it...some kind of panic attack?"

"Yes and no." Steve was starting to despise the vagueness with which Tony answered his questions. Tony sighed. "Though she has some of the same symptoms, the main thing is the uncontrollable crying. Clint said it has to do with the Red Room, or something."

"Where Natasha was raised," Steve commented with a nod. "I've never seen Natasha... _react_ like that. To _anything_."

"A few months ago, when Natasha was staying here, she had an episode when me and Pepper were with her," Tony said. "We were just talking, and she suddenly started acting up like that. Fortunately, Clint was also around, so he overheard what was happening and took charge of the situation immediately. He put Natasha to bed like we just did and tried to explain it to us."

Steve tilted his head.

"These incidents used to happen a lot more around the time Natasha first joined S.H.I.E.L.D.," Tony said, echoing Clint's words. "They only ever happened when it was just the two of them, Clint and Nat, alone. Apparently, Natasha had grown up thinking it was some sort of long lasting punishment from the Red Room, since it only ever happened when she really trusted or befriended someone.

"Long story short, Clint helped her overcome most of it. They still happen every once in awhile, though, and I think today's reason was the classic _Snow White_."

Deep down, Steve had worried it was fault. He averted his eyes, turning away from Tony. "Damn it. She looked apprehensive when I mentioned Disney, I should have known-"

But Tony shook his head. "You had no way of knowing. Like you said, Natasha never reacts like this to anything," he said. "She hardly emotes, for that matter. Except when she's laughing at one of us or we piss her off. Clint says this has something to do with her childhood not really being much of a childhood, kind of like she never really grew up, in a way."

Steve didn't know much about Natasha's past, outside of the fact that she'd been raised as a weapon of mass destruction in the form of a young spy, and that she was nearly as old of him. Emotions seemed to be nonexistent to her, judging by her cold delivery of the words, "love is for children" to Loki before the Battle of New York. But she'd never had a chance to _truly_ be a child, so how could she know that was the only time of her life for love?

"Is she going to be okay?" Steve asked.

"In a while, yeah. She just needs some space and time to finish crying it out, then she'll be back to her stoic self," Tony reassured him, a small grin appearing on his face. "It's almost good that this happened, in a way; now you know what to do if this ever happens again when you're with Natasha."

Tony had a point, but Steve couldn't help the knot of guilt in his stomach. Natasha had been particularly intriguing to him lately, her quick wit and dry humor capturing his attention in the time since they'd become partners. Steve wished he knew more about Natasha so he could properly help her.

"Thank you, Tony."

"No problem, Cap."

Steve vowed to himself he'd properly protect Natasha next time, acting as the partner she truly deserved and needed.


End file.
